


My Sleepless Night

by RobinsonsWereHere



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Date Night Gone Wrong, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Food Poisoning, Innuendo, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nausea, Sickfic, Vomiting, bc i'm only using folklore lyrics for titles for the foreseeable future, but like i said it's food poisoning, set in late s5, shawn's a big softie, this is a bit gross sorry, title from hoax by taylor swift, true love is holding your gf's hair back at 3am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25611373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere
Summary: When a date night to a less-than-five-star restaurant gives Juliet food poisoning, Shawn doesn't think twice about staying up all night to take care of her.Juliet might be feeling utterly horrible, but she does enjoy this new, gentle side of her boyfriend that she hasn't seen much of before.
Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 16
Kudos: 61





	My Sleepless Night

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: Juliet has food poisoning in this fic and it's really not glossed over. I won't go so far as to say there's anything really graphic but there is frequent vomiting, and some description. I know this is triggering to some people (or just gross) so if you're not comfortable with it, feel free to find your shules fluff somewhere else, I won't mind 💖

Juliet watches Santa Barbara pass through the window of the cab as she and Shawn ride home from dinner. She’d enjoyed the date, but although the restaurant looked nice enough, the food had left something to be desired. Shawn’s steak had been overdone, and she’d only finished about half of her fish, unable to stomach the unusually strong seafood smell. The memory of it still lingers, making her feel a bit queasy. She forces herself to focus on something else.

“Thank you for dinner, Shawn,” she says softly, reaching for her boyfriend’s hand. In the few short weeks they’ve been dating, she’s found him to be very tactile, which she loves. The only time it’s an issue is when they’re working, but they’re a long way from the station now.

Shawn lifts their intertwined fingers and kisses the back of her hand. “Of course, Jules. Only the best… or, what looks like the best. Sorry it was more of a swing and a miss.”

“I don’t mind,” Juliet tells him. And she doesn’t. Leaning more into his arms, she gives him a long kiss to prove it.

\---

The kissing only increases when they get to Shawn’s apartment. It’s a small place, but it’s got the essentials, and it’s comfortable. Juliet likes being here; it feels cozy, almost like Shawn himself is wrapping her in a hug. He’s doing almost that right now, his hands on her hips tugging her into his lap while their lips stay connected. This sort of kissing, the making out leading into foreplay, is practically Juliet’s favorite part. Too bad her stomach won’t settle enough for her to enjoy it.

Normally making out with Shawn results in pleasant butterflies in her belly, but this is… not that. When Shawn starts grinding against her, she wants to reciprocate, but the rhythmic movement turns the waves of nausea into whitecaps. She pulls away suddenly, trying to take a deep breath.

“Shawn, please don’t take this personally,” she says, the words coming out in a rush as she tries not to vomit. Even as her boyfriend makes a noise of confusion, she scrambles off of him and hurries for the bathroom, thankfully just around the corner.

“Woah, are you alright, babe?” Shawn pulls her hair back as Juliet empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet. “I didn’t realize my breath was that horrible…”

Juliet feels embarrassment heat her cheeks. This is not the ending to this date that either of them had imagined. “I think my fish was bad,” she mumbles. “I… do not feel good.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Guess there’s a reason they say fish are friends, not food.”

With nausea still swirling in her painfully cramping stomach, Juliet doesn’t have much energy to spare for her boyfriend’s rather dumb jokes. She moans helplessly before bending back over the toilet and retching again.

To her surprise, the next words out of Shawn’s mouth are an apology. “Sorry,” he says, his tone softer, more gentle. She feels his warm palm rub over her back. “Oh, babe. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she manages, reaching for some toilet paper to wipe her mouth.

“Hey, use this,” Shawn encourages, handing her a towel.

“I don’t wanna get your towels dirty…”

“They’re towels, Jules. It’s what they’re for. This is the least I can do, after my dinner pick gave you food poisoning.”

“I’m the one who ordered the fish,” she sighs. 

Shawn stays unusually silent, playing with her hair. Juliet takes a few deep breaths, and when she’s timidly confident that she’s done throwing up for now, she stands and moves to the sink, splashing water on her face.

“Are you ready for bed, Jules?” Shawn asks. He brushes her hair from where it clings to her sweaty forehead.

“The sooner I get to sleep, the sooner it’ll be over,” she agrees.

“Alright.” Shawn wraps his arms around her. I’ve got you.”

When he lifts her into the air her stomach lurches, but the gesture is one of kindness so Juliet says nothing as she wraps her arms around his neck. He carries her to bed, and she strips to her panties, taking his shirt from him when he pulls it off. Normally, whenever she’s so much as shirtless, Shawn’s gaze is fiery, his intent clear. Tonight, however, he simply presses a kiss to her forehead and fluffs a pillow for her.

Juliet doesn’t imagine she’s looking very enticing right now, anyway. It’s still a sweet gesture.

For maybe ten minutes, they lie silently in the dark. Juliet tries closing her eyes, but that only encourages the swirling sensation of nausea. When her stomach begins to cramp, she knows she needs to get to the bathroom. Still, she desperately wants to sleep this off. She scrunches her eyes shut and tries to take deep breaths.

The hair on her arms and the back of her neck prickles. She feels her stomach lurch violently. When bile begins to creep up the back of her throat, she claps a hand over her mouth and finally darts out of bed, running for the bathroom. This time, her vomit only half reaches the bowl, splattering the rim as well. She groans.

“Oh, Jules…” if Shawn was asleep, he isn’t anymore. 

“Guess I’m not sleeping it off,” she mutters.

He bends to kiss the top of her head, then pulls open a cabinet under the sink. The faux-citrus scent of Clorox wipes doesn’t help Juliet’s stomach.

“We’ve got everything we need right here,” Shawn says. He sounds almost chipper, and Juliet briefly wonders how. Then again, it’s only just past ten; anyone _not_ suffering from food poisoning probably has a few hours before even starting to feel tired. “Clorox, washcloths, towels… we’re in this for the long haul, Jules.”

In response, she groans and leans forward to puke again.

—-

Over three hours later, Juliet is curled up in the fetal position on the cool tile floor. She’s clammy but also sweating, feeling like she’s outside in Miami right before a July thunderstorm. Hot, sticky, and definitely not having a good time.

“Hey, baby,” Shawn murmurs, his voice just as soft as when this all started, if a little more tired. “I brought you a Gatorade. Blue, ‘cause my mom used to say I shouldn’t drink red when I was puking since it might look like blood coming back up.”

Juliet whimpers at the imagery. “I don’t want Gatorade.”

“You gotta drink something,” he presses. “Throwing up makes you really dehydrated.”

The concern in his gaze has Juliet heaving a sigh as she pushes herself upright on shaking arms. “Alright. I’ll try a sip.”

He twists off the lid and hands her the bottle. As soon as the sugary scent hits her nostrils, she knows she’s going to regret this, but she keeps her promise. She manages one small mouthful, but the feeling of anything at all sliding down her throat has her stomach rebelling.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, but a reflexive half-gag is the only warning she gets before the Gatorade comes right back up.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he sighs. “We’ll try again in a bit.”

Juliet throws up three more times in quick succession. When the fourth flip of her stomach results in only dry heaving, she peels herself off of the toilet and curls up on the bathroom tile. Shawn lays a cool washcloth on her forehead, but she can barely mumble a thank you.

Despite the temporary pause in puking, her stomach continues to cramp painfully. It gives an unpleasant rumbling every now and then, normally followed by another sharp pain. Juliet pulls her knees to her chest and closes her eyes, knowing her agony shows on her face.

“Jules, what’s wrong, baby?” Shawn strokes her forehead, and she whimpers.

“It hurts…”

“Where?”

Juliet takes a deep breath to keep from snapping at him. “My stomach.”

“Alright, c’mere.”

Juliet doesn’t want to go anywhere. She whines and squirms away from his touch. Still, Shawn moves toward her, lifts her head gently into his lap, and slides his warm hard under her shirt (his shirt) to rest it on her belly.

“Does this help?” he asks, rubbing slow circles.

Juliet risks stretching out a little more. It does feel a bit better with his hand on her skin. “Yeah…” she gives a long sigh. “Thank you.”

Shawn hums and leans down to kiss her forehead. Juliet contemplates dozing off, but she still feels like shit. For now she’ll settle for lying here in Shawn’s lap, taking deep breaths as he rubs slow circles over her stomach. It would almost be nice, if not for the whole food poisoning thing. 

“Wanna try some more gatorade?”

She very much does not, and she thinks her answering groan makes that clear.

“C’mon, babe. Hydration is important.”

“Shawn,” she whines, drawing his name out.

He holds up the full bottle of blue gatorade again. “Jules, sweetheart. Please. For me?”

She wouldn’t have expected a thirty-three year old man to have such effective puppy dog eyes.

This time, the drink stays down a bit longer, but not by much. Juliet takes a small sip, waits a minute, and when her nausea doesn’t drastically increase, she tries a slightly larger one.

Big mistake.

She feels the cool liquid run down her throat, and though she’d expect it to be a pleasing sensation, all she gets is a churning in her stomach. She actually whimpers, leaning against Shawn as she presses her lips together like this is something she can ward off with stubbornness. 

“No good, babe?” Shawn rubs her shoulder, his voice sympathetic.

Juliet finds she’s unable to answer as she vomits gatorade and bile into the toilet.

It’s going on two in the morning by now. She feels sweaty and gross and miserable in every way. Shawn’s shirt is sticking to her skin and smells vaguely of vomit, though she can’t recall if she’s gotten any on it or if the smell is simply lingering in the room. Her hair is in her face and plastered against her neck and always in the way, except when Shawn holds it back. 

Juliet _hates_ food poisoning.

And she’s honestly not sure what Shawn is still doing here.

That’s the silver lining, she guesses, if there is one at all. She’s never seen this side of Shawn before. She’s never seen him so quiet, so gentle, so caring. It’s not as if he hasn’t been affectionate and considerate thus far in their relationship, but tonight… it’s as if he’s flipped a switch.

“Shawn?” she asks quietly.

“Whatcha need, babe?”

“Thank you.”

There’s a pause, and when Shawn speaks, he sounds genuinely confused. “For what?”

Juliet laughs. “You took me out to dinner, and when we came home, instead of a flash-bang finish to the night--”

“Bang? Yes. Flash? No. You know I take my time.”

“Shawn,” she laughs. “Not the point. Instead of… all of that, you’ve spent four hours holding my hair back and taking care of me while I suffer through this. So, thank you. I have dated more than one guy who would’ve stuck me in a cab back to my place without so much as a ‘get well soon’.”

“Well then, you’ve dated more than one guy who was a total asshole,” Shawn says bluntly. She’s resting her head in his lap again, and she can feel his fingers idly combing through her hair. 

“The point is…” Juliet isn’t quite sure how to say what she wants to say. “This means a lot to me, Shawn. Of course I hate feeling sick. But knowing you’re here for me like this… well, there’s more to a relationship than strong chemistry and good sex. And it’s nice to know we’re a good fit in more ways than one.”

Shawn smiles softly at her, one hand coming out of her hair to grab her hand. He brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Of course, Jules. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kinda getting serious here.”

His tone is light, almost joking. But the truth of his words settles in Juliet’s chest like a warm drink of coffee.

—-

Juliet is beginning to think that the roiling nausea in her stomach is legitimately never-ending. She’s long since rid herself of the fish dinner, and now when she hurls, there’s barely even any bile. Her empty stomach doesn’t prevent the queasiness, though. She can’t go more than fifteen or twenty minutes without retching into the toilet, and in the time in between, she still feels horrible. She’d like to maybe doze off in Shawn’s arms-- she certainly feels exhausted enough-- but once again, closing her eyes only makes things worse.

“Your hair is soft, Jules,” Shawn murmurs. 

Ordinarily she’d have pulled it back by now, but she’s enjoying the feeling of Shawn playing with it. “Thank you. I use a moisturizing shampoo.” She feels his fingers run over her scalp, followed by the occasional tug as they catch on knots further down. “Hey, Shawn…” an idea occurs to her. “Do you know how to braid?”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’.

“Would you like to?”

He leans over her enough so that she can see the curious look on his face. “Sure!”

It takes a while, seeing as they can only go for so long before Juliet pauses to get sick, but Shawn does catch on. Juliet had shown him by braiding a small amount of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder, but after an hour or so, Shawn has all of her curls pulled into a neat, if loose, braid. “Woah, I did it!”

She laughs at his excitement, finally feeling well enough to sip the gatorade again. She only tries one sip this time, but it stays down. Progress.

“Is this good, Jules?”

“It’s great,” she tells him, smiling at the earnest glee on his face.

“Awesome,” he murmurs. “Now if we ever have a daughter I’ll know what to do.”

Juliet chokes on her next tiny sip of gatorade, which unfortunately triggers her gag reflex. At least her hair is already back.

“If we have a _what?”_ she asks, once she’s wiped her mouth off.

Shawn is blushing; she can barely see it in the moonlit bathroom, but he is. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“I think it’s a little early to start talking about kids, mister,” she teases, making herself as comfortable as she can on his lap. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he agrees, kissing the top of her shoulder where her shirt (his shirt) has slid down. “It just… slipped out.”

“Well, we’re both tired,” Juliet murmurs.

Shawn stifles a yawn. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

Juliet feels her eyelids drooping. “Like shit.”

“I bet.” Shawn dots gentle kisses over her forehead and cheeks.

She still feels sick, but closer to being on a boat in a storm than actually ready to hurl. “I think I’m gonna try to sleep now.”

“Good luck,” Shawn whispers.

She thinks he kisses her softly again, but by then she’s drifted into slumber at last.

\---

When Juliet wakes, she feels worlds better.

Tired? Yes. Weak? Yes. Shaky? Yes.

But she no longer feels the urge to vomit, even if she has sweated through her sheets.

Sheets.

Juliet rolls over slowly, a smile curling over her face when she finds Shawn passed out on top of the covers next to her, drooling on the pillow. She reaches out to run a hand gently over his stubbly cheek. “Hey…”

Her sweet, caring boyfriend blinks slowly awake. “Mmmn… morning, Jules…”

“You carried me to bed last night,” she says, her smile growing.

“Once I was pretty sure you were out for the count, I thought it might be more comfortable.” He props himself up on an elbow and brushes a few strands of hair from her face. She can feel that the rest of it is still in his braid. “So how do you feel this morning?”

Juliet stretches, wiggling a little bit. “Much better… like a person again. A person who’s been sick for twelve hours and is probably dehydrated because she didn’t listen to her loving boyfriend about the gatorade, but still.”

Shawn looks relieved, the worry in his gaze morphing back to a gleam of playfulness. “That’s great, babe. You want breakfast?”

She chews her lip, not sure she does. “Maybe some toast and gatorade… not blue, though.”

Shawn nods like he’s agreeing with her, but a smirk curls over his lips. “And here I was, ready to drive to McDonalds and get you a filet-o-fish.”

Juliet yanks the pillow out from under his hand and smacks him with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love to see comments and kudos, and you can find me on tumblr at bijulesspencerohara if you want to chat!


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